I'm always a bit skeptical of people around the New Year.  People resolving to make changes in their lives is great and all, but how many of them are really serious?  How many are actually willing to take the time and make the commitment to change?  Let's face it, we're people of habit and, put simply, change scares us. 

"We would rather be ruined than changed.  We would rather die in our dread 

than climb the cross of the present and let our illusions die." -W.H. Auden

As the New Year draws closer and closer, I can't stop thinking about this past year.  And, as I do, I can't help but think of 2012-about what I want it to be, about who I want to be.  As I do this, I have to make a conscious effort to cast skepticism aside, to believe that I am someone with not only the capacity, but also the willingness to change.

2011 hasn't been the easiest year for me.  It's been one filled with hopes, dreams, failures, & disappointments.  One of those years that somehow flies by, yet simultaneously seems to last forever.  As 2011 comes to a close though, I can't say that I'm terribly upset.  It's definitely had its good moments, but I'm ready for something more.  I'm ready for a fresh start.

Over the past few days, I've spent a significant amount of time thinking about and creating a list of hopes I have for 2012.  I've asked the Lord to give me words to describe the season I'm walking into and to prepare my heart for all He has in store for me over the course of this next year. 

I don't want to be about some quick fix, a list of resolutions I'll fail to keep.  I've never been much good at that and the last thing I need is to be opening up another door for condemnation and guilt in my life.  I want 2012 to be more than that.  I want it to be a year of transformative change-not simply in the decisions I make, but in the posture of my heart.  I want the decisions I make to be reflective of the person I want to be; and who I want to be is a person of joy, a person of gratitude.

So while yes, I do have a list of things I hope to accomplish throughout this upcoming year, checking things off my list just doesn't excite me nearly as much as the thought of every day life.  Because I'm committed to the small things this year.  I'm committed to those small, every day choices that will help me become the person I'm called to be.

Here's to 2012.  May it be a year of joy; a year of gratitude; 

and, most of all, a year far greater than any of us could even imagine!

Today marks day 96 of our 100-day stint here in Vietnam.  It's our last day in the village and, as excited and ready as I am to be back home, I'm kind of sad to be leaving this place. 

I'm going to be honest and real for a moment here and it might make me sound a bit heartless, but oh well.  As I pack my bags and reflect on this trip, it's not the people I'm going to miss most.  I'm grieving what this could have been.

This season has been one of the toughest I've been through in a long, long time.  It was a season of high hopes and unmet expectations.  A season in which my poor attitude and unwillingness to be flexible kept me from truly getting to know the people I'm with, nor reaping the fruit the Lord had for me.  When I think about it, it's sad really.  This could have been a truly life changing journey, a season in which I got a real taste of what it means to live and dwell among another culture.  Instead, I spent most days wishing I were elsewhere.  I spent most days escaping reality and avoiding relationship and being angry with God all the while.

Now, don't get me wrong, this trip wasn't all bad.  There's a reason I started this series with my 10 favorite moments.  There's a reason I chose to focus on the good instead of reliving the bad. 

The past 4 days the Lord has been doing a work in me that I can't even begin to really put words around.  He's convicted me and humbled me in ways I wasn't expecting, but am incredibly grateful for all the more.  He's begun to reveal to me just howimportant this season has been, even if I can't entirely understand its purpose as of yet.  He's provided me opportunities to finish strong, to love well, and to simply be myself.  But most of all, He's shown me the importance of walking out of here with my head held high, rather than kicking myself for what I had written off as a season of failure.

The fact of the matter is, I can't change the past 96 days.  As much as I'd love to go back and do things differently, I can't.  But I can choose how I walk out of here; and, while I'm definitely leaving this place a bit sad, grieving the relationships and experiences that could have been, I'm choosing to walk away grateful.  I'm grateful for the people I've met and for the love they've shared, even when I've failed to love in return.  I'm grateful for the warm, friendly faces that continually offer me grace, even when I've failed to offer it myself.  Most of all, I'm grateful that seasons of failure often produce the greatest fruits in life and that, though this season may have been a tough one, I have no doubt the lessons I've learned here are ones that'll have lasting effects.  

This is the first in what will hopefully be a series of blogs to close out this 100 day trip.  Tomorrow is our last day in the village so prayers for closure, especially for the people we've met, would most definitely be appreciated.  We head to Ho Chi Minh for a couple of days Sunday and will begin our journey back to the States on Wednesday (the 28th) evening.

Top 10 Favorite Moments (in no particular order)

Falling asleep to the rain in Binh Minh.  On the way home from one of our many trips to Ho Chi, we had the opportunity to visit a church in Binh Minh and spend the night there.  They had set up thin mattresses in the rooftop Sunday school classroom for us.  As we prepared for bed, it started to pour rain, making for a loud but absolutely incredible evening.  There's just something about falling asleep to rain coming down on a tin roof overhead that brings peace to my soul.

Standing on the bridge taking pictures.  A few weeks into the trip, as we were walking home from the coffee shop, I stopped to take some pictures on the local bridge.  As I stood there and simply watched life around me, camera in hand, I felt like myself; I felt alive.  It was an invigorating feeling that I haven't been able to really replicate much since, but a great one nonetheless. 

Riding a tractor.  I'm not a country girl.  I didn't grow up on a farm and never had the experiences many of my friends who did have.  One day, Hoang called us to come work in the rice field (or so we thought).  Upon getting there, we saw a tractor harvesting the grain and not much we could really do to help.  As we walked up though, the driver of the tractor began to make his way over to let Heather and I hop on board.  Heather helped fill some bags while I simply sat there and took it in.  It was a simple, yet fun day.

Tandem bikes in Dalat.  Back in August, we had an opportunity to travel to a mountain town called Dalat.  A popular nighttime activity there is riding tandem bikes around the lake.  We decided this sounded like it could be fun, paired up, and began our adventure.  It didn't take long for the chain on mine and Bill's bike to pop off, in the middle of a traffic circle mind you, turning this into quite the entertaining evening.  We managed to survive the evening without any casualties, though I did manage to rip my pant leg when it got caught in the chain, as well as bang up my knee from the fact that I'm about a foot taller than the average Vietnamese woman.  Like I said, it was quite the entertaining evening.

Seeing Ba Tu smile, wave, or say, "I love you."  Oh Ba.  She's always making us laugh for various reasons.  But as much as she's made me laugh, this woman has brought warmth to my heart that I've most definitely needed in this season.  Whether she remembers who I am from one day to the next doesn't entirely matter when I see her smiling face.  One of my favorite things to do is wave to her, pretty much all the time.  She never ceases to smile and wave back.  I'll definitely miss her crazy antics but most of all I'll miss that smile of hers.

My marriage proposal.  I think this was one of my favorite moments because it was one of the first, "yep, this is my life," moments for me of this trip.  I talked about it a bit in this blog but, in short, this guy came to meet us.  As he was talking to us, his questions started to shift to just me, as he started to ask when I graduated university and if I'd be interested in marrying his brother-in-law's son.  He even had our translator take a picture of me and everything.  It made for quite an entertaining conversation, though I must admit I was relieved when he finally left.

Story time with Si.  While visiting the orphanage in Ho Chi Minh, I had the opportunity to sit down with Si and read with him.  He chose the story-a Bible story from Matthew-and we took turns reading to each other.  It was a completely unexpected, yet absolutely perfect moment with a precious child who stole my heart.  In addition to spending time reading together, Si learned how to use my camera and spent a good portion of that morning taking pictures and video for me.  These are most definitely pictures I'll cherish, as they'll always remind me of this day. 

one of the pictures Si took.  unfortunately I can't post pictures of him but I love this picture he took!

Getting to be the caboose of a Chinese dragon.  Okay so maybe not quite, but it was close.  As we were walking back from a carnival like thing in town, a couple of us got caught in the rain.  After trying to wait it out a bit in someone's home, we decided to try to walk back.  The lady at the house gave the four of us one poncho to try to stay dry as we walked back so, naturally we held it over our heads with me, the tallest person in the back.  We walked down the street in town in Chinese dragon fashion, unable to see before noticing that it had stopped raining.  Unfortunately nobody captured this on video, but it was pretty great. 

Hanging with Horatio.  So this wasn't one particular day but has actually been the highlight of many days for me.  Awhile back, in need of alone time, I stayed in Ho Chi Minh for a couple of extra days while the others went back to the village.  While there, I realized I wasn't spending enough time worshipping.  Since then, I've been spending a lot of quality time with Horatio, my guitar.  The other night, as I was plucking away at the song, "As the Deer," I heard a soft voice nearby singing along.  I looked over and saw Hong with a big smile on her face as she recognized it.  Later Sen joined in.  It was such a simple, yet amazing moment.

Boat ride home.  A few days ago, we had an opportunity to visit Sen's family who happen to live in a village that hasn't seen white people since the war.  After spending some time there, her brother took us home on his boat.  The 15-minute moto ride to the village was over an hour ride by boat, but I loved it.  I had the opportunity to take pictures and just let the Lord love me as I took in the surroundings.  It was pretty great, despite the fact that my knees look like that of a lobster.

I've been absent from the blogosphere for pretty much this entire trip.  Sorry about that.  This story was too good not to share though.

I first met him January 2008.  All I really knew was his name was Michael, he was 2 years old, and he absolutely stole my heart.  For just under two weeks, he was glued to my side and was the reason I was excited to wake up and go to the work site each day.  He was my little buddy and I loved him in some weird unconditional way.  It took everything in me not to cry the day I left, knowing I had to leave my little buddy to live in the same squatter village, unable to control his future.

In January of '09, I had the opportunity to go back to the Philippines.  While I most definitely made friends and loved the children in the second village, I couldn't help but miss my little buddy.  I was blessed with a trip back to the original village where I saw the now 3-year-old Michael.  I didn't think it was possible to love him more, but the moment I saw his smiling face and he ran into my arms, I knew this kid would always mean something to me.

It's been almost three years since that last reunion and I've found myself back in the Philippines for a few days.  I tried to come here with no expectations, knowing things change a lot over time.  I mean, I managed to travel the world in that time.  How I can I be sure this little boy I love would still know me?  Or even be alive?

Thursday I found my answer.  I found Michael.

I just need to pause for a moment and say God deserves a ridiculous amount of glory for the events that went down that day.  I walked into this day knowing pretty much two pieces of information about this kid.  1) His name is Michael.  2) He's cute.  I didn't have a last name.  I couldn't actually even tell you which house was his if you had asked because he spent most of his time glued to my side.  I knew nothing.  Yet, we found him.  And this is the story of how that happened.

We arrived in the village absolutely flabbergasted at the paved road we had just driven in on.  The memories of pushing our jeepney through the mud seemed like just yesterday.  It didn't take long before Bella asked about Michael.  "Oh Michael?  About 5 or 6?"  They knew him!  I don't understand a word they're saying when Bella turns to me and says, "They moved."  I had prayed the night before that the Lord would remove all my expectations of this day, that I would go into this open handed, knowing there was a good chance I would not see my little buddy again.  As Bella told me that Michael's family no longer lived in this village, I was actually at peace.  Sure I was a bit disappointed, but my world wasn't shattered like I had previously expected it to be.  Nonetheless, Bella kept asking questions.

Before I knew it we had two first year high school students in the back seat of our truck headed to the opposite side of town in search for Michael.  We learned his family had moved because his dad had gotten into a bit of trouble.  They didn't tell anyone in the village where they went, except for the family of one of these boys.  After a pit stop at McDonald's, we learn that the boys don't in fact know where they are going.  They are just as clueless as we are as to Michael's whereabouts.  All they know is it's by a bridge and, well, there are a lot of bridges in this area of town.  We get to the part of town we were told it was and ask a man where this specific bridge is.  He points us in one direction.  After pulling a u-turn and heading that way, he waves us down and tells us he was wrong.  We pull another u-turn, starting to feel like this might be a hopeless cause.

Soon enough though, we cross a bridge.  This is it!  We see a sign that says the name of the Barangay he supposedly lives in.  We pull over and a young man with a mohawk asks what we need.  The two in the back still look clueless, so we tell him Michael's name and hope for the best.  To our surprise, the young man says he knows the family and asks if we'd like him to go get Michael's mom for us.

As we sit there and wait, I can't help but think of the last time I saw her.  She had been putting on Michael's clothes after a bath when we walked up.  It was then that Michael took off in a sprint into my arms.  I was growing more and more anxious, yet still trying not to get too excited when Michael's mother, Vanessa walked up.  "Michael's in school right now."  When she said that, I thought for sure we were done.  Nope.  She hopped in our car, in between the two boys, and to the school we went.

I think it was at this point in time that I had to refrain from pinching myself to convince myself this was in fact real life and it was looking more and more like I might actually get to see him. 

Anyway, we get to his school and Vanessa goes in.  She tells the teacher Michael has a friend who flew in from Vietnam to see him and that she needs to borrow him for about 10 minutes.  It takes everything in me not to burst into tears of joy as I see him walking down that sidewalk with Vanessa.  My little buddy, exactly like I remember him, only bigger.  We talk for a bit before finally taking some pictures and saying goodbye.

The reunion was nothing like I expected; it was a thousand times better.  You see, unlike the last time I saw him, I walked away from this day filled with hope for my little buddy.  Hope for a future brighter than his past; hope for a future that truly makes a difference.   As I looked at him in that little school uniform of his and saw him smile, I couldn't help but thank God for this beautiful child.  Yep, he's a winner and I have no doubt he's going to continue to change lives long after mine.  While there's no way for me to ever know if Michael remembered me (he claims he did!), you have to admit, it'll be hard for him to forget being pulled out of class to see a white girl who's been looking all over town for him.  

We were just finishing up breakfast when he walked up.  "Sinchau!" we all said and kind of looked at each other.  None of us knew who he was, so we waited to hear what Chin Sahn had to say.  He explained to us that this man was the brother-in-law of the man who owned the land we were hoping to purchase.  He had just come by to say hello and greet us.  This was an unexpected but definitely God ordained moment, as we had been hoping for an opportunity to meet the people who owned this land.  We were told they were rich men who had no need to sell it, therefore, would be charging much too high a price for it.  He told us about his 2 wives and 11 children and about the 30-40 children his brother-in-law has, as well as a bit about the land of course.  Conversation was going wonderfully and then, I saw him looking at me and heard him asking Ruth a question.  She turned to me and asked, "Did you just graduate University?"  This was the first in a series of questions that followed as this man tried to marry me off to one of his brother-in-law's children.  Not just any kid though; his 6" tall, 30 year old, English speaking, well-traveled, very rich, architect with two degrees kid (or so he tells me...).  Needless to say, conversation was pretty entertaining for a while, as we realized this could be a wonderful way to get our land (just kidding mom...and dad).  

We've been in Vietnam for almost two weeks now and have had the opportunity to meet many different people.  We've met men who have first hand experienced the hardships of war and prison.

We met one boy who was introduced to us as an orphan.  He had walked from his home to meet us and we had an opportunity to hear a bit of his story.  His father had passed away and he lived with his grandmother.  He had two siblings and a mother, but didn't see any of them often.  We still don't really know why he was introduced to us as an orphan, but it opened the door for us to ask questions about what that word really means to this culture.

We met one man who came to know the Lord after his aunt was miraculously healed from cancer.

During one home visit, we were caught off guard by a beautiful woman who spoke fairly good English.  She was a mother of one whose husband of two years lives in Canada.  She's a vegetarian.  So is he...when he's in Vietnam anyway. 

We met one man who claimed to be a prophet of Cai Dai.  It took him no time at all to make comments about our size and weight and tell us about the nuclear fallout that will take place in America to drive us all to Vietnam.  Let's just continue to pray that prophecy doesn't come true.

We've met mothers and fathers, family and friends.  We've reunited with old friends and made connections with new ones.  We've met many people and heard many stories.  And it's only day 14.  I can't even begin to imagine how many more we'll hear as days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months.  Here's to more stories than I can possibly tell, more relationships than I can possibly count!